Welcome backstage
by Dapple
Summary: Perhaps a slightly different approach of the BMFM. Keep your pass ready and your tail off the camera please. Welcome backstage...


**Author's note:** This is an experiment. I might not have gotten as far as I aimed, but it was still interesting to play with the idea. And if you wonder who all the humans appearing in the story are, just have a look at the end-credits of 'Hard Rock'.  
Besides, this is not just an experiment. It's also a wish for what could appear on the extra material if there ever came a BMFM-DVD. Oh, and I wouldn't mind if they added the shower-scene Vinnie keeps talking about too...

**Disclaimer:** I do not make any profit from this, at least not any financial one. I do not claim to own the Biker Mice from Mars and neither do I claim to know any of the characters appearing in this story. If the divine Mr. Tataranowicz, anyone else who appears in this story or anyone who knows them ever reads this I pray you to forgive me if you find the description unfair.

Dapple pictures

hereby proudly presents:

There are many ways to be a hero

(a slightly different view of how the Biker Mice from Mars really work)

finnished February 13, 2005

"No!" Vinnie cried and slammed the basket he'd been carrying down on the sofa right beside Modo, "Put the camera down! Haven't I told you a thousand times over: you're very welcome to film me when I'm in the shower but never, _never_ when I'm doing the laundry."  
The cameraman smirked and redirected the camera to capture Modo sitting in the sofa in only his boxers (pink with big, red hearts on them) who'd started to fold the laundry neatly.  
"Chill Vincent, that will all be cut away in the final edition, you know that. It's in your contract. Here." Tom Tataranowicz handed the white mouse his script for today at the same time as he entered the garage.  
At the sound of the familiar voice Throttle, wearing washing-gloves, peeked out of the kitchen.  
"Look, there's the man!" the tan alien laughed.  
"Hurry up Throttle. We've got a lot to do today. Has Miller McGee showed up yet?"  
"Nope, haven't seen her." He went back to finish the dishes.  
"Ah think she had a late night yesternight." Modo smiled and began piling the newly folded clothes as the roar of a bike slowing down could be heard outside the garage.  
The grey mouse rose and with a nod to the figure now standing in the doorway he took his script and headed for the stairs to get dressed.  
"Hi Rick!" Vinnie greeted and picked up a rootbeer from the table with his tail. He opened it and gulped it all down in a few draughts. "How fares life with our savior today?"  
"Much more interesting than before you crashed into my garage" the dark-haired man laughed. "You got one for me too?"  
"Sure thing. Suit yourself" The limber tail passed him a sixpack of bottles.  
"You never get tired of this stuff?" he asked and opened one of the bottles while the white mouse replaced the remaining five on the table.  
"Nope. And not of the showers either. I think I could spend the whole day under running water if I didn't have to work."  
"Speaking of work... Hi guys!" Throttle emerged from the kitchen when the room started filling up with people getting the scene ready, moving lamps, unpacking clothes and pushing the two mice down in a chair each to get them as well ready for today's filming. Modo was being chased downstairs again by the script girl.  
"Any news from Carbine yet?" the stressed producer called from the studioversion of the transporter.  
Leaning back in his chair Throttle caught himself just in time not to shake his head when the make-up artist fixed his hair with brush and loads of spray.  
"No, not yet. I think she's busy. You know, with the war and everything." He kept his breath so he wouldn't get any of the spray and powder they used for his fur down in his lungs.  
"She should've called yesterday! How are we ever going to be able to finish '_Back on Mars' _without her? Aren't the troops the government sent enough to give her one week off?"  
"I think she gets nervous if she isn't in charge all the time."  
A laugh was heard from the next chair where Vinnie was enjoying the treatment he got from his assistant.  
"I bet the camera's what makes her nervous! Oh man," he added, "I just love this mascara."  
"Yeah," the girl on his lap agreed as she skillfully applied it to the other eye too, "it makes your eyelashes look so thick. They're incredible."  
"All of me's incredible, Sweetheart."  
On the other side of Throttle Modo had his chair. The stalwart mouse was joking jovially with the young man tending to him at the same time as he kept a sharp eye on his bike being polished. All of their eyes were turned towards the door when it was flung open and let in Leeza Miller McGee with her hair on an end and things falling out of her bag behind her. She stopped and stooped to pick up keys, mobile phone and her other belongings from the floor.  
Tataranowicz headed for her.  
"What's the point of a mobile phone if you don't have it on?" he wondered.  
Leeza smiled a little.  
"Sorry I'm late guys. Traffic was awful today."  
"Don't worry Sweetheart. It won't be for much longer when I hit the road!" Vinnie quipped.  
She shook her head.  
"Coffee," she said to the girl who came up to aid her in changing into her overall and the role of Charley.  
"Is everyone here?" Tataranowicz held a list where he checked all the actors.  
"Susan?"  
"Yes, your cheddary cheesiness?" was heard from the table beside which Susan Silo was sitting, pulling her hair back with the scull-marked shawl, her face painted completely green.  
"In good shape for both of your characters today I hear." Tataranowicz smiled, "Rachtman?"  
"Reporting in for duty sir!" Rikki Rachtman said and shook his hair, now a bright red color.  
"Good. We've got Charley, Limburger, Greasepit (keep those gloves away from the sofa Garrett, it's Hell to clean), the Mice, the bad goons and... That's all I think. Let's kick out the jams!"  
When the makeup was finally finished and the stage readied the mice donned their last pieces of garment and rose.  
"I'm glad you're not wearing those red uniforms anymore, they looked ridiculous" Rick smiled, "even though I believe they are practical when in a real war," he added more soberly.  
"And I'm glad they changed you for a pretty babe" Vinnie ribbed him back.  
"Girl Power!" Charley shouted from the other side of the studio, and they all laughed.  
Tataranowicz was pointing something out to Limburger who was making marks at different places in his papers.  
"Today the heroes waste your tower by driving a train through it."  
"Why do plutarkians always get to play the bad guys?" the fish complained.  
"That's 'cause you stink!" the white mouse laughed at his own joke.  
"Well," Throttle pointed out, "we couldn't very well get a real Saturnian over here now could we?"  
"That would be a sight to see" Ungar smiled and sipped his rootbeer.  
"Not for very long," Modo said and his eye started glowing threateningly.

Karbuncle coughed a few times to get the right wheezing, hoarse tone to her voice.  
"Yes, your provolo... prov... oh, shoot. 'You can write the shit Lucas, but you can't say it'!" she muttered under her breath. Then, louder:  
"These alliterations are killing me! Can we take it again, please?"  
"Soon, that glorious gravy train of glittering gold will cram the corrupt coffers of Limburger Incorporated," Limburger said happily, looking out the fake window.  
"Yes, your provolone princeliness," Karbunkle agreed. "And in the meantime—"  
She motioned toward the bluescreen.  
"-what shall we do with these prisoners?"  
"Dispose of them," Limburger replied, as if this should be obvious. "Slowly. And _painfully."_  
Throttle, on screen in the computer and obviously pissed, worked his way out of his gag and shouted, "What! Why, you lousy lump of corruptin' cheddar, _you gave your word!"_  
Limburger smiled, amused.  
"If my _word_ was worth anything, I wouldn't be much of a _villain,_ now would I? Ta-ta!"  
The Plutarkian walked off the stage, and an elated Dr. Karbunkle pulled the lever on the control table.  
"CUT! Great acting, guys!"  
"Now how about giving the prisoners some rootbeer Sweetheart?"  
"Sure. Ready to make the train-scene after lunch?"  
Throttle, leaning against the wall behind the scene threw a glance at the script.  
"We're supposed to sing?"  
"Ah thought you wanned ta _increase_ the number of viewers?" Modo inquired with a rised eyebrow.  
"Yeah, not scare them away!" Vinnie shook his head with a smirk.  
"Now this is the advantage of playing the villain; you are rarely forced to sing."  
"On the other hand you _are_ forced to make the 'traditional plutarkian greeting'!"  
Limburger shook his head sadly;  
"We all have our burdens." Then he put a sympathetic hand on the tan alien's shoulder when he caught the almost unnoticeable sag in his carriage.  
"Don't worry lad, you are making a difference even here. There are many ways to fight a war."  
Throttle gave him a tired but grateful smile.  
"All help is appreciated."

"Oh man. Look at that roadrash" Modo complained. "It'll take days to heal. And tight pants aren't exactly helping."  
"Those pants are not very tight anymore." Throttle pointed out surveying the ruined garment.  
"I'll have to go and change" the grey mouse nodded and took a few, limping steps towards the garage/studio where they lived.  
"We might as well take lunch now, when we have to pause anyhow" Tataranowicz decided. "ONE HOUR LUNCH!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs and made the mice cover their ears real quick.  
When the team began to scatter Modo made his way to his room upstairs and Throttle tagged along behind him.  
He leaned against the doorframe watching his grey bro. sit down on the bead, pulling off his boots and carefully trying to avoid touching the bloody mess on his thigh as he tugged off the jeans and started cleaning the wound.  
"Some more work for Vinnie" the tan mouse smiled.  
"Yeah, he'll be overjoyed" Modo nodded and put all his clothes in a heap on the bed before staring to pick up socks and comic magazines from the floor.  
Throttle turned to look at a half-done painting in deep red and green colors that was resting on an easel in the corner. Several other paintings, finished and unfinished, were leaning against the wall.  
"You painting again Big Fella?"  
"Yeah. Feels good. Feels bad that I can do it when the ones back home can't, but it still feels good to do it."  
Throttle tipped his head and adjusted his specs.  
"Cocono Canyon?"  
"Before..."  
"Mmm... It's beautiful."  
"Ah know. C'me on, let's go."  
The bigger mouse was done dressing, gathered his clothes, and the two aliens went downstairs to grab some chow.

"Aow!" Leeza cried and bounced up from the sofa faster than she'd sat herself down. Rubbing her sore butt she removed a pair of books from under the pillows.  
"These yours by any chance?" she inquired and had a look at the titles. "_Universe and the Teacup_ by Stephen Hawkins?"  
"Yeah, that's mine" Vinnie said and took it from her to put it on the TV.  
"You read that?"  
"Sure. As Throttle always says; 'war is not won by muscles alone, bro'. Then he usually hands me a 1200-pager so heavy I could use it to kill Saturnians without even reading it. They're interesting though."  
The girl smirked.  
"This yours too?"  
"Lemme see. _Field surgery._ Nope, that's Throttle's. I can't stand poking around in people who're still alive. One could think he'd have had enough of that after what happened to _him_."  
"So what they say about his eyes is true?"  
"Yeah, more or less. But he's wearing the shades just to look cool. Actually he's got lenses to correct the disorder. The specs are too easily knocked off in a fight. I'm not surprised he freaked out on that doctor from Area 51 though. It wasn't exactly a pleasant experience if you see what I mean."  
"I can imagine."  
"No Darling, I don't think you can. I know I couldn't."  
The two remaining Biker Mice came rumbling down the stairs, breaking the tense silence.  
"Any hot-dogs left for us? Or did Vin-man inhale them all?"  
"That's what you get for being patient for once? Man, I _should_'ve started right off and then you'd've had yourselves to blame for being late."

"Phone for you Throttle! From Mars, it's your girl-friend" the assistant hollered.  
"Great. I'm coming!" Throttle immediately dropped the stuntman he'd been pretending to beat up, turned his bike and snatched the phone from the human.  
"Hi there Babe. How are things up there?"  
"Not good Throttle. We lost another city again. The Saturnians are pressing us more than ever. You have to understand there is no way I can make it to Earth as it is right now."  
"I understand Love. And believe me, I think you are doing the right thing. It's just that... In the contract it says you have to give'em a week down here or they'll take away the support their government are giving us."  
"No Trottle. They are not that stupid. They know that if we fall, they'll be next. Try to keep them happy anyway, the troops are great help."  
"Hmm... I guess this means one more pair of torn clothes? Do what you think is best."  
"You bet. See ya next week. You _are_ coming home next week, aren't you?"  
"You bet. I love you Babe."  
"I love you too. Mars over and out."  
"Earth, over and out."  
"Well, what did she say? When are they coming?"  
"They're not. We lost another city and there's no way she can cut loose enough time to get here, not even with the transporter."  
"Oh man. What do we do now?" The white mouse frowned and looked over his shoulder at the producer heading towards them, but the least of his worries was about how the next episode was going to be made.  
"Eh, we have a slight problem," Throttle told the human when he reached them, "Carbine can't make it."  
Tataranowicz looked at him, irritated at first but the frown quickly changed into an expression of sad worry.  
"How are things at home?"  
"Bad, we lost another city" Vinnie informed him quietly.  
"How many died?"  
"Too many" Throttle stated. "And we can't make _'Back to Mars'_ right now, that's impossible." He tried to change the subject as not to think of where he ought to be right now. The troops from Earth and the additional weapons they provided were of far more use than he and his bros. alone would've been, but it still stung not to be there fighting.  
"But," Modo put in, "can't we shoot it on Mars? Ah mean, we're going there next week anyhow, right?"  
Tataranowicz's expression brightened noticeably.  
"That is an excellent idea. Maybe we could even get some real fighting?" he said hopefully.  
Vinnie laughed.  
"I doubt they'll let you within ten miles of the front with a camera. But it's very possible you'll _see_ some real fighting" he finished gloomily.  
Rick put a supporting hand on the young alien's shoulder and was rewarded with a flashing smile.  
"Not that that's gonna stop us!"

"Wow, if nothing else works you could sing to the Saturnians, that's gonna chase them off your planet like this." Ungar snapped his fingers.  
"Guys," Susan prayed, "If you're gonna sing off-key, can't you at least stick to the _same_ false tone all of you?"  
"I think it would be easier if we could just take one line each, as usual." Throttle suggested.  
"Let's try that" Tataranowicz agreed, relived.  
One and a half hours later he was not as relived anymore. The stage had been stowed away for the next day and most of the personnel had left, except for the producer, the sound-guy, Limburger and Susan Silo. The former-DJ-now-simply-tortured-in a-studio-though-I-get-well-paid shut off the recorder and sighed.  
"I say we call it quits for today. Now I think I have enough material to make at least one decent edition for the episode."  
The blue-green fishlike alien beside him nodded thoughtfully.  
"Is this possibly how you interrogate a prisoner of war on Mars? 'Cause I know I'd spill everything immediately."  
"Shaddup" Modo said friendly as he sank down in the chair next to him.  
"Well if you think you can make it with what you've got now, this'd be all for today" Tataranowicz nodded to the sound-guy who'd already stared to pack down his equipment. Then he turned to the aliens, lounging in the sofa and the chairs scattered all over the room. "Thank you for today, see you on... Wednesday? Yeah, Wednesday'd be it."  
With that Tataranowicz, Susan and the sound-guy headed out. In the door he turned and threw a glance at Limburger.  
"Want a ride to the hotel?"  
"Oh," The piscine heaved himself out of the chair "yes thank you. That'd be nice, I'm still quite unfamiliar with your technology. Cars are horribly unsafe, and even more so in my fins."  
"Have a nice evening" Modo wished them and the other two mice added their own farewells.  
Ungar lingered behind with the mice as the others left.  
"So, tomorrow's your free day, huh? Wanna hang out, do something maybe?"  
"What can you do without money? And when you constantly must wear a disguise covering all of you and have five body-guards trailing behind?"  
"Come on, don't be so negative Throttle."  
"Yeah, Ah'm sure we could come up with sumethin'. We'd love to hang with you tomorrow."  
The human smiled weakly.  
"This isn't easy for you."  
"Easier than having your home ruined when you know you could've stopped it."  
"Don't be negative I said!"  
For a while the garage was silent. A silence full of thoughts, but not an unpleasant one. Everyone simply took a moment to gather themselves and to gain some strength.  
"Well, I'd better head home," Ungar rose, "Ten in the morning, that all right? Or is it too early for you lazy-bums?"  
"Hey, by ten _we_'ll be waiting for _you_."  
"OK, bye guys, good night, see you tomorrow!" The door slammed shut.  
"'Night" Vinnie hollered after him. Modo moved to the couch and Throttle pulled up the TV-table so they could watch football whilst waiting for the dinner to get ready in the oven. Today's special was chicken and French-Fries. The tan mouse selected the channel and then crashed in the sofa with his head on the grey mouse's lap and his feet on the white one's.  
"Throttle, your feet reek!" Vincent complained, covering his nose.  
"Whiner. It's just the socks." He pulled them off and threw them in a corner. "Man, what a day."  
Vinnie settled and started massaging the tawny pair of feet he'd been allotted.  
"Tomorrow it's your turn. Then I won't wash my feet first!" he said sourly.  
"That'd be a first." Modo rumbled good-naturedly, "I'm almost surprised they haven't started to deduct from your salary for all the water you waste."  
"Oh, they couldn't. I don't get paid."  
"What a way to fight a war" Throttle sighed and let his shades slide down to the floor.

THE END

**Written by:**

Dapple

**Producers:**

Rick Ungar

Tom Tataranowicz

**Starring:**

Throttle

Modo

Vincent

Rick Ungar

Tom Tataranowicz

Leeza Miller McGee

Lawrence Limburger

Susan Silo

Brad Garrett

Rikki Rachtman

**Ride Free Citizen!**


End file.
